Making a Case
by Natsudori Lina
Summary: After all this abuse, Motoki's had enough.


**See my bio for a disclaimer.**

**A/N: This is something that has been in my head for a while now, and today, I just gave in and wrote it. I know, I _should _be working on Haru no Kousekiinai Arimasu, but this just begged to be let out of the little corner of my mind I'd locked it in.**

**I felt kind of sorry for Motoki because of all the abuse he's suffered at my (and others' hands). Today, he gets to present his case and defend himself.**

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_**Making a Case**_

_**By Natsudori Lina**_

**1/1**

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_This is something I have to say._

_I have been accused of many things in my lifetime. They've said that I stole cookies from the cookie jar, ate paste, and stayed out past curfew. I've been fired from jobs because my managers found out I was sneaking bits of food from the clients' plates. Really, I've been blamed for many things. But _this_. This just can't go on any longer. It was okay the first couple times, but really, enough is enough._

_You know, I've got a pretty good life. I work at an arcade, so I can play video games on my_ _break. (And _these_ managers don't care if I help myself to an occasional sundae.) I get pretty good grades, my best friend doesn't mind doing me a favor every now and then (so long as it doesn't involve a certain Odango Atama), and my family is always there to support me (hey, there's a _reason_ I work at the arcade now)._

_But, you know, you get to a certain point where you just can't take it anymore._

_Let me make this clear. Four simple words. I. Am. Not. Gay!_

_**Point one:** Time and time again, Mamoru has teased me about my pink apron. It was a _gift_, I tell you, a _gift_! My poor Granny Furuhata knitted it for me, and I am not going to break that sweet old lady's heart by leaving it in its box when she comes to visit._

_**Point two:** I like to gossip. So what? If you don't like you gossip, you are not, I repeat _not_ human. We all have a certain curiosity within us that cries out for _answers_ when we find that there's something we don't know, _especially_ when it's something others know._

_**Point three:** 'Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble?' Hey, that may be the way it works when _some_ guys cook, but not me. I can cook, make a tasty meal (if I do say so myself), and not get food poisoning later. And I'm darn proud of it too._

_Really, I'm just in touch with my feminine side._

_**Point four:** I have a _girlfriend!_ What? _No, _she's not a just a transvestite pre-op! Reika'd be reaaaally mad if she heard you say that._

_**Point five:** I like to match make, you say? No, actually I don't. I fear match making, and its mighty and awesome power. If I tried to make a match with two people that I know and get along with and they end up breaking up with each other and hating each other's guts, I'd have to choose! I hate making decisions! (It's a constant battle: vanilla or chocolate?) So, I only try to match make with people who can "make it." (No, not 'make it'_ that _way._ _ Get your minds out of the gutter, you hentai). Usagi and Mamoru… they can make it. You've all seen the way they look at each other, right? And the way they invade each other's personal space! C'mon. I mean, _come on! _ They're in love. You know it. I know it. The only people who _don't_ are those two. I'd just like to see my best friend and imouto-chan happy._

Motoki abruptly cut off his dramatic impromptu monologue at a strangled sound from below him. He gazed out at a sea of faces, most of which were staring up at him open-mouthed. He looked down to see Usagi's face slowly turning a fire-engine red. Her fingers twitching sporadically, she reached both hands towards him, murderous intent written across her features. She was dwarfed by the imposing figure behind her. Chiba Mamoru. Motoki's best friend. Who now apparently want to commit amigo-icide, as he was currently backing Usagi up every step of the way, death in his eyes as he cracked his knuckles menacingly.

Motoki laughed nervously and put a hand behind his head to wipe away the sweat that had suddenly sprung up there. He hopped down from the counter and glanced left and right, searching for escape routes.

"What's that Unazuki? I'll be right there." Motoki dashed away as if the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels, letting a scream ("AIEEEEE!") escape him as he ducked through the back door.

Usagi and Mamoru's eyes met and they both nodded decisively, coming to an unspoken accord as they strode calmly and confidently after him, for once united in their cause. Their agreement did not need to be uttered; their purpose was plain.

_Kill the baka._

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**/Grins/ Care to review?**


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